


An Unfinished Melody

by Aeterna12



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeterna12/pseuds/Aeterna12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield"- Mycroft Holmes. Now the battle's lost and all that's left is to count the causalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unfinished Melody

  
_  
_ **Prologue: Shattered**   


So this is what it's like to be broken. To have your heart ripped out of your chest. To have the air forced out of your lungs. To have the light sucked out of your world. And to descend into the neverending darkness. 

London is nothing more than a battlefield, and a battlefield is nothing but an ill-disguised graveyard, filled with the unfulfilled futures of those who passed before their time. John had seen that. He'd seen enough battles to know that casualities were inevitable and that sometimes, those casualities would destroy you if you let them. He knew he had to move on. A war is lost if you dwell on a single battle. And yet, John knew he would never be able to move on. He’d never return to the life he used to know. Some battles define a war.

Whenever John closed his eyes, he’d see the wind picked up the edges of Sherlock’s coat. He’d feel the the panic that surged within him as he looked up at the roof of Bart’s. He’d drown all over again in the overwhelming desperation. The unending helplessness. 

_“Goodbye, John”_

“NO!” John bolted upright in his bed, gasping for breath. It was already late in the afternoon, but John quickly fell back into his bed, staring at the blank ceiling above him. His blinds were drawn attempting to block out any intrusions from the world outside his bedsit. Only the faint sounds of the light drizzle trickled in as it gently struck against the window pane. John tolerated the rain. Somehow, it felt appropriate. It felt fitting. An eternal grey.

A gentle knock at the door broke into John’s thoughts. He knew who it was and he wasn't ready to see her. He never could understand why she kept coming. He wasn't pleasant company. He didn't care to talk, and no, he wouldn't go buy milk with her. The milk was always more for... A sharp pain stabbed through John’s heart, temporarily knocking the breath right out of him. Clutching his chest, John rolled over and curled himself up.

Another knock came. A bit more forcefully this time. But it didn't matter. John didn't hear a thing. Complete numbness had taken over him as he laid in his bed, quivering. Some days were better than others. Today was not one of those days. 


End file.
